


Holiday Party

by LittleLadyLoki



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:47:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27999231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLadyLoki/pseuds/LittleLadyLoki
Summary: Aziraphale has a dreaded holiday work party that he can't get out of and they're expecting to meet a certain significant other that he doesn't actually have.Based solely on a Tumblr post that was screenshot to Facebook and shared in a group I'm in and adore.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Holiday Party

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I haven't posted fanfiction in about 15 years(I was in middle school). I got bullied off of ff.net and was afraid to make any writings public, then I stopped writing almost altogether. I just couldn't resist this prompt and I gift it to the group on Facebook, should they accept it. I do love them so, even if I'm not an active member. 
> 
> Also, this has not been beta'd and I did type it on my phone, so I hope it worked ok.
> 
> Thanks for reading, criticism is welcome, hope you enjoy!

Aziraphale glared at the reminder written in the margins of his calendar. The holiday party. Of course. He had been exceedingly successful in avoiding work socials thus far by use of an imaginary and mysterious significant other who kept odd hours.

He had endeavored to continue the ruse, but the party was, rather deplorably, mandatory. Not to mention that all of his coworkers were very happy to finally meet the love of his life. He had complained to the few friends he did keep and the best bit of advice he’d gotten was to say that his ambiguously anonymous lover was unavailable for such an affair, followed very closely by the ever more tempting suggestion to play ill.

He perked up at the sound of his door opening without announcement, signaling the arrival of his closest companion.

Crowley strode in, well, more strutted, and draped himself across the loveseat.

“Gotten it sorted, then?” he asked, running fingers through his own crimson hair.

“No,” Aziraphale responded on a sigh, “I just need someone to go with me and pretend to be my date.”

“Hire someone.”

“No, no, that would never work. I have supposedly been in a long-term relationship with this person! They would definitely know nearly everything there is to know about me. I can’t expect a hired person to be that!” he threw his hands up in defeat before rubbing his face tiredly.

“I know nearly everything about you,” Crowley responded lackadaisically, and quite unhelpfully. 

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. “Well then, why don’t you go with me then, since you are, apparently, correct for the job.”

Crowley grinned and rolled onto his back, stretching his arms over his head as closed his eyes. “You can’t afford me.”

“Afford you? You would extort your friend?”

“Nah, not a friend. But you? Probably.”

The blonde man huffed and turned away, arms crossed. “I wouldn’t want the likes of you there anyway.”

Three nights later found the odd pair sitting in a candle lit café, having dinner and chatting when the dreaded party was yet again brought up. 

“Still no date, then? Seems like you ought to just suck it up and admit you’ve been lying. Or have a conveniently timed and rather unbelievable break up. Either way, they’ll all know you just hate them.”

“I do not hate them, I just prefer to do what I actually want to do with my personal time.”

“Could’ve just been honest then,” Crowley retorted, the corners of his lips turning up in that enticingly rude way they tended to when he was being cheeky.

“I didn’t want to upset anyone! It’s just as well, though. See, I’d been so very vague about this lover I’m supposed to have that they’re all quite convinced that there’s no discernable gender. I’m quite certain that even you couldn’t pull that one off.”

Amber eyes flicked up over dark spectacles. “Excuse me? I am a being of no discernable gender. That is exactly me. That and all discernable gender, really. Just, you know, me. Anyway, how dare you?” Crowley wielded mock offense so well. Almost as well as Aziraphale could turn the slender man’s ego against him. 

“I do apologize, darling, but I simply don’t think you’re quite as androgynous as you think yourself. Either way, it has been a lovely evening, but I do need to prepare for this party.” He stood to leave, straightening his vest, when his wrist was squeezed just a touch too hard.

“When and where?”

The party was decorated very nicely, the guests dressed finely, and a certain blonde was feeling all the sicker for it. Crowley had been running late and promised to meet at the venue, but half an hour later and there was still no sign of him.

Aziraphale twisted his hands nervously and turned away from the door, heart pounding. He could hear bets being made about his lack of date. He was just about to resign himself to telling the truth when a well manicured hand rested gently on his shoulder. 

“So sorry that I’m late, takes a while to look this blessed good.”

Aziraphale’s heart leapt and he turned, quickly pulling a wrinkle out of his off white suit jacket and failed to hold in a gasp. Anthony Crowley was gorgeous. His short, styled hair was swept to one side with a wave, perfectly displaying the snake below his sideburn. He wore a floor length dress, black with blood colored glitter that twinkled in the light. From the long slit in the skirts there was an almost fully exposed leg wrapped in a transparent thigh high stocking and the peek of a crimson garter to match the stiletto heels adorning the man’s feet. His crimson lips pulled back into a devious grin, completely contrasting with the innocent blink of his dark, sparkling, smoky eyes.

“Anthony, you made it,” Aziraphale gasped out, unable to catch his breath as he beheld his best friend in all his beauty.

“I never break a deal. Shall we dance?”

The night was perfect. All of the other employees were in shocked awe. Some were so bold as to question Crowley, who smiled beatifically and gave perfect answers(“We prefer to stay home. I adore when he reads to me.” “I think our first real date, not the either of us knew it was a date, we had crepes.” “I do love his odd tartan obsession, though I will forever tease him for it.”). The pair danced and laughed and drank happily. So happily, in fact, that it seemed barely an hour before the venue was closing did they had to leave. 

Not quite ready for the spell to break, they opted to walk home, enjoying the crisp night air as Aziraphale wrapped his date in his coat while jokingly chiding his own lack thereof. All too soon they were outside the bookshop, their laughter fading as they knew it was ending. 

“Care for a cuppa? Warm you up?”

“Nah, I really ought to head, it’s late. I’ll tempt you another night, yeah?”

Crowley began opening the jacket to return it, but was stopped. 

“Later, so you don’t get cold on your way.” He stepped back and hailed the cab that happened to round the corner just then. “Thank you for tonight. It was spectacular.”

Crowley smiled sweetly, or as sweetly as he knew how, and leaned down to press a kiss to his friend’s cheek. “I was, wasn’t I?” He laughed and darted into the cab as Aziraphale tried to swat him playfully. And then the car pulled away and it was over. Suddenly the night was just cold and the tea didn’t seem so appealing. 

Two weeks. It had been two weeks since the holiday party. Two weeks since he had seen one Anthony Crowley. Not to mention his suit jacket. He so missed his friend, but worried that the absence meant a call would be unwanted. So he went about life like nothing was odd. Even though all of it wasn’t quite right.

A month. One MONTH. Aziraphale frowned to himself as he walked into his flat and yet again contemplated a phone call. What would he even say? He groaned quietly as he went through the motions of preparing some tea. He carried the cup into his bedroom, picking up a book on his way, but stopped in his doorway, nearly dropping his tea.

On his pillow, laid out very deliberately, was his suit jacket. He quickly placed his items on the bedside table and picked up the garment. It obviously hadn’t had the courtesy of a wash, it was wrinkled and smelled a bit of sweat, perfume, and cologne. Specifically, Crowley’s regular cologne, his perfume from the party, and if one could guess correctly, Crowley’s sweat. Meaning he had slept in the jacket. At least twice. 

Aziraphale smiled to himself and sat on the edge of his bed, clutching the jacket and bringing it to his face to smell it. This meant something, didn’t it?

Another week went by and he’d had enough. He picked up his phone, going so far as to even put down his book, and dialed from memory. It rang to voice mail and his heart sank a bit as he slowly hung up the receiver, unsure what he would even have said had the man picked up. He sighed and sat back in his chair, staring at the loveseat that his best friend tended to monopolize. Surely it was beginning to need a dusting, it had sat untouched so long.

Resigning himself to more solitude, Aziraphale stood up and took his now cold tea to the sink. Maybe he’d make cocoa this time. Surely he would finish it and maybe even find himself a bit cheerier. He prepared the new beverage and made his way back into his book covered sitting room, reclaiming his chair and opening his book again. He couldn’t seem to read though. Something was off. Not wrong, certainly not, but not the same either. He frowned and sniffed his cocoa, took a sip, all was well. Book was the same, so no odd book swapping sorcery there. He turned to the phone. As he had left it. He frowned and glanced around, the gasped, spilling his cocoa on the floor as he nearly dropped the cup. 

“Anthony J. Crowley, how dare you sneak up on he like that! I very well could have ruined my trousers!”

The offending man snorted from his position on the loveseat, kicking his feet in amusement. “Don’t blame your clumsiness on me. And I didn’t sneak. If you had any sense about you, you’d have noticed me when you came in.”

“Are you insulting me? In my home?”

“If you take it that way.” Crowley grinned, kicking his feet again. He shook his head, making his well kept hair topple as gravity did its job. 

“Could you not sit like that? Your shoes are on my wall. And I don’t care to hear you complain should you slide down and your hair touch the floor.”

“Nah, ‘s comfy.” They sat quietly a moment. “Missed you.”

Aziraphale felt his eyes widen and he cleared his throat. “Yes, well, could have come by.”

“Busy. Could have called.”

“Also busy. Although I did try today.”

“Yeah, couldn’t answer, you might have heard me outside your flat. Wouldn’t be much of a sneak then.”

“You cretin, you admit it!”

And all seemed to return to normal. Except for that niggling feeling in his chest and stomach when Crowley was near. 

One evening, late November, the pair was in a café, enjoying crepes. Aziraphale smiled fondly at his plate and looked up. 

“So, I’ve got a mandatory holiday party in a couple weeks. Would you like to go again? They loved you, ask about you all the time.”

The ginger cocked his head, making the light dance on his black spectacles. “Was fun. Don’t wanna lie again though. If I go we have to tell the truth about what we are to each other.”

Aziraphale deflate. As much as he hated lying, he hated the idea of being caught out even more. He contemplated for a moment before stealing himself. “I agree. On one condition.”

Crowley lowered his head, looking over his glasses, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yes. Let’s make it an actual date.”

Crowley grinned, an took off his glasses. “So this isn’t a date?” his grin widened at his friend’s bewilderment. “I did tell them that the first one was crepes. So it hadn’t happened yet.”

Aziraphale blushed and glanced around, seemingly embarrassed. The other man’s face fell and shoulders slumped. 

“Right. Forget that then, sorry.”

“What? Why? No! I simply thought you would think me presumptuous! I would love it if this were a date!” he all but yelled as he leaned forward, gripping the edge of the table.

Crowley rapidly turned so red he was very near purple and quickly fumbled his glasses back on. “Yeah, well, uh, good then. Don’t gotta yell it, ‘s all fine, right?”

“Are you alright?”

The gangly man choked a bit and nodded too quickly.

“Anthony? I don’t understand.”

“’S good, just drop it.”

So it was dropped. After a few minutes(after all faces had returned to normal colors), the new couple set plans for the holiday party. They met at the bookshop a week later to iron out the details and, as per Crowley’s request, coordinate outfits. The were enjoying the evening in relative silence after everything was sorted until a sudden thought struck the blonde. He dropped his book onto the floor, earning his boyfriend’s undivided attention. 

“You fake it!” he yelled, seemingly out of nowhere. “All the bravado and suave flirting, it’s all an act! That’s why you stutter and make such silly noises!”

“Silly noises? I do not ma-" Crowley's protests were cut off as his cheek was kissed. His face rapidly got hot and all he could choke out was a strangled “Ngk" before his lips were bestowed with a quick, chaste kiss. “Okay, maybe I sometimes make a noise or two,” he mumbled, pretending to be grumpy. 

Aziraphale grinned, almost as deviously as his partner was known for, and kissed him again, slower. “It’s quite alright dear, I think it’s cute.” He smiled at the protest to his statement and cut it off with another kiss. If only he’d known it was all an act, he would have asked Crowley out so much sooner. Oh well, no such thing as wasted time when you’re with the one you love.


End file.
